


There was no music

by Laura_Sinele



Series: Fictober 2019 drabbles [15]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 15:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21079034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Sinele/pseuds/Laura_Sinele
Summary: Victor finds Yuuri's video skating his Stammi Vicino gold-winninh routine.





	There was no music

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fictober19 prompt 17: "There's just something about him/her/them"

Victor was lounging on his couch in one of his rare off season free days, absently cuddling Makkachin and scrolling down Instagram. Some of the Sochi attendants were still posting pictures of the banquet and he had decided to play a little game that was by no means fueling his, not at all growing, obsession with Katsuki. En each photo he looked for them both or at least Yuuri, in hopes he could find his Instagram and follow him, but either he didn’t have an account or he was awfully private and no one in the skating circles knew it. 

He kept idly scrolling down his feed, scratching Makka’s ear, and letting his mind wander to the dances and flirting lines traded with his beautiful, mysterious japanese admirer. Then, a Youtube notification interrupted his daydreaming: 

**Katsuki Yuuri Japan National Hero Skate Victor Nikiforov Routine Stammi Vicino**

He jolted, heart arace. Makkachin complained and Victor spent a few seconds cooing and petting her with the double purpose of calming her and calm himself down. After a while, he settle down, got comfortable and hit play. It was a bad recording, the camera trembled and didn’t quite framed Yuuri properly. Plus, there was no music. But there was no need for it. Yuuri’s movements were louder than any song. His transitions from figure to figure were flawless, his jumps technically perfect, and his heart was there, pouring over every motion, lifting him up, making it impossible not to fall in love with his routine, with his movements, with him. 

_ Be my coach, Victor _ .

This man didn’t need a coach. He needed an altar with a legion of faithful adorers. Maybe Victor could provide him both. 

\--

As expected, Yakov threw a fist.

“Vitya, have you lost your mind? This could be your last season!”

“I know, and I don’t care. I have to do this”.

“But why? Why are you so obsessed with a drunken, last place skater?”

Victor did what he always did when he got really angry. He put on a big, charming smile and prepared to leave the conversation.

“It’s just there is something about him. Take care, Yakov. See you next season”


End file.
